


Roundabout, Like Clockwork

by AmateurScribes



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Crying, Dexter Grif- Freeform, Dissociation, Dreams and Nightmares, Emetophobia, Established Grimmons- Relationship, Established Relationship, Government Conspiracy, Government Cover Ups, HUNT the TRUTH (referenced), Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, M/M, Massacred Colony Survivor Grif, Minor Character Death, Original Character Death(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Repressed Memories, Survivor Guilt, lots and lots of crying really, summary is terrible I apologize
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 11:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10306955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmateurScribes/pseuds/AmateurScribes
Summary: Grif tries to drown out the memories and emotions tied down to the destruction of the previous colony he had been stationed at, but the more he doesn't confront the problem- the bigger it grows.After a recent mission ends with causalities, Grif begins to act very strangely and more often than not finds himself locked in a memory.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest piece of fiction I've ever written, and as such there'll be notes at the end explaining a few things that might not be clear in the actual work. This is not betaed so all mistakes are mine as always. Also, Grif is gonna seem very ooc, that's 100% my fault, because of how I chose to develop this work.  
> EDITS: Edits made on 3/16/17

_The sun is high in the sky, but it doesn't quite beat down on Grif like the sun did back in Blood Gulch. He closes his eyes with sweat dripping down his brow and his jaw clenched. He knows where he is. When he tries moving his legs, they're nailed down to the platform he's standing on; a wide balcony where he can see everything for miles near the base. There's a wall surrounding the edges, and there are a couple of crates to the right of him._

  
_It was a beautiful day out. Grif opens his eyes and scans the horizon- there was nothing to see and there wouldn't be, at least not yet._

  
_He can hear some of the younger recruits squabbling over something that doesn't really matter down below. If he looks to his far left he'd see the guards making one last round for a perimeter check._

  
_And if he could sit down and lean against the crates to take a nap it'd be exactly as it'd happened that day._

  
_That never happens when he's welded down to the floor. Something always makes his eyes flash wide open, something makes him look down at what had been a tranquil base seconds before and to see the massacre occur._

  
_He'd been asleep the day it happened, but from the mangled corpses he awoke too, he likes to think that the chaos happening around him is as accurate as the day it had really happened._

  
_There's a constant ringing in his ears that he knows is just the diluted screaming of his teammates. The repetitive gunshots unloading ammo into enemy combatants and the distinctive sound of plasma weaponry being fired had all blurred into one._

  
_He can feel the platform shake from explosions down beneath, but he can hardly hear them._

  
_He can smell the smoke and ash and charred dead remains, but he can't feel the fire nip and coil at his sides._

  
_He's forced to see every last man down before he can finally move his legs, sit down and lean into the crate, and fall asleep to the sound of complete and utter silence that was unnatural in this environment._

* * *

Grif knows he's been staring at his food for a couple of minutes now, having not taken a single bite, and that this in itself has caused some concern amongst his fellow Red and Blue soldiers.

  
He's not hungry as much as it pains him to say. There's no desire or urge to give his body the nutrition it needs; he does not feel hungry at all.

  
He knows if he tried to take a bite out of his food that it'd turn into ash in his mouth, and him trying to spit it out would cause much more concern than him simply not eating.

  
He can feel Simmons tense beside him, as his gaze goes from his tray to Grif himself.

  
Tentatively Simmons asks, "Hey Grif, are you ok?"

  
"I'm fine Simmons," he mutters. "I'm just not hungry."

  
A concerned look crosses Simmons' face and he knows there was a pause among his friends as they all stared at him.

  
Taking the initiative Grif gets up, throws out what was supposed to be his breakfast and leaves the cafeteria.

* * *

_"Hi, you're the new transfer, right?"_

  
_There's a kid standing in front of him with his hand stretched out, clearly looking to shake his hand._

  
_Grif didn't know his name then, but he knows his name now._

  
_Private Ferri. Age: 17. He was a prodigy who somehow, beyond all comprehension had managed to get enlisted before the age limits, and for all his luck got stationed here. He liked to read and his mother was a seamstress._

  
_In a few months, his skull would be bashed in as his body lay on the floor with his armor scorched with plasma._

  
_Against his will, Grif lifts his hand and half-heartedly shakes it. Back then he thought the kid was annoying._

  
_Now he wishes the kid had been stationed fucking somewhere else._

  
_"You're not very talkative are you?" Private Ferri asks. "That's ok, though! Everybody gets out of their comfort zone eventually, right?"_

  
_"If you say so," Grif mutters repeating things he wished he could take back now._

  
_He'd give anything to scream at the kid to get out of this fucking colony as soon as he could before he ended up as a body that was probably still rotting at that base- hell he was probably only a pile of bones by now._

  
_The stupid, fucking kid beams at him before leading him to the barracks, chatting a mile a minute about nonsensical shit that won't matter in a few weeks. And Grif can't control his own damn body as he's forced to listen to this kid's voice longer than he should ever have to again._

* * *

  
There's a gun in his hands and he's not sure when that happened.

  
He looks around and notices that he's in the firing range and that Washington is close by watching him.

  
He vaguely remembers Washington mention something about a one on one review to see how their training has been going on and to see what needed to be worked on. But he remembers Washington saying that, that would be on Friday for Grif.

  
Looking up at his HUD he can see that yes, yes it is Friday.

  
Washington seems to be getting slightly annoyed at Grif taking so long, so Grif aims his gun at what he thinks is the designated target.

  
Taking a breath to steady himself Grif switches off the safety, aims, pulls the trigger and-

  
Shoots Lieutenant Sharpentire right between her eyes.

  
He doesn't remember throwing away his gun, or falling onto his knees, or removing the clasps to his helmet.

  
But somehow when he gets too, it's to him dry heaving with his hands holding him up about a foot away from where he'd been standing.

  
The image of Lieutenant Sharpentire flashes before his eyes once more and he begins to dry heave again.

  
He hasn't had anything proper to eat in a few days.

  
It's when he finally registers the hand on his back and a voice asking him if he was all right, that he notices Washington kneeling beside him with his own helmet off too.

  
"Grif," Wash shakes him a little at that making Grif think that he must've been zoning out. "Are you ok?"

  
"I've… I've never been better, Wash." Grif doesn't mean to advert his eyes at that, but he can't focus on much of anything right now. His vision's blurring and it feels like he might pass out anytime soon.

  
Wash has the same look that Simmons had a few days ago at breakfast that Grif can still see the parallels perfectly in his mind when he wakes up in his own room a second later.

* * *

_The sergeant at this base isn't like the sergeant at basics or Sarge. She's her own individual and she stands out as much as anyone else did at that base._

  
_She doesn't scream at her subordinates like that one drill sergeant (whose name he couldn't for the life of him remember) use to nor does she threaten bodily harm on the soldiers under her command that she doesn't like (Sarge)._

  
_She has an air of respect and command around her that normally would've pissed Grif off and made him always question her authority, but from the sparkle she sometimes got in her eyes, Grif knew she was down to Earth._

  
_Many times at the outpost, Grif had found himself actually complying with the duties he had to perform because orders coming from Sergeant Donahue didn't feel wrong._

  
_In some strange, movie-like scene, it's actually Sergeant Donahue who shows him that balcony on the top of the base._

  
_"Ok, Private Grif I'll make a deal with you. If you manage to complete your tasks in a timely manner, this," she gestures broadly with her arms, "can be your private space to do whatever you want."_

  
_Her face was set in stone back then as if she knew that she already had him hook, line, and sinker. Back then he would find out in due time that she had a mischievous streak to her that would often lead to her following around some of the misbehaving privates. She would sneak up on them and demand to know what they were doing lollygagging around, gaining a little smile as she saw them flounder and try to be respectful to their commanding officer._

  
_Now he knows that in a few weeks time she would be suffocating on her own blood as Grif panicked around her trying to figure out what was wrong, and why wasn't anything working, before she would grip his wrist in a weak hold to pull his hands away from her body and to stop him from fretting about her, because at that point she was already gone._

  
_He once again has no choice in saluting Sergeant Donahue and to see her give that small smile of hers. She breaks the salute and disappears down the hatch that leads onto the balcony._

* * *

This dream isn't like the other ones. The base looks different yet similar at the same time. This time Grif actually has the ability to move.

  
He adjusts his gun in his arms and cautiously moves forward.

  
The stability of the base is questionable as the walls look as if they're on the verge of collapsing.

  
He's vaguely aware that he's never seen the base look like this before, but then he hears voices and that train of thought ends there.

  
He slowly moves towards the source of the noise and enters into an open clearing. He keeps to the edges of the opening, ducking behind a broken wall to provide coverage.

  
Peeking up he can see the figures of the voices and all he needs is a glimpse to see the very distinct Brute shape of their armor before he's ducking down again.

  
His breathing picks up and he's already checking his gun to see if it's a DMR. He gives a little sigh of relief as he sees that it is.

  
Quickly gaining his resolve he ducks up and rests it against the top of the crumpled wall.

  
He can only slightly make out what the bastard aliens are saying from his vantage point. He looks through the scope of his DMR to see them gathered around in a circle in the field. He waits a few moments to hear what they're saying; to hear what they're planning.

  
"I don't know… been acting very… I'm worried."

  
"He passed out during… hasn't been… it's unlike…"

  
"Maybe he's just… I can't see… he wouldn't miss her?"

 

"That's not it… I think… very wrong…"

  
Grif huffs slightly as he's too far away for him to hear clearly, and the conversation doesn't make any sense anyways. He's planning on making a hasty retreat to see if there's anybody to warn about the Covenant forces when he hears it.

  
"I think… might be about… the colony Tant-"

  
Before he can even think about what he's doing he's adjusting his DMR and taking aim with his finger closing on the trigger faster than he can control.

  
He guesses his hasty movements must have given his position away, maybe the sun had glared off of his scope causing a glint that one of them must've seen because before the Brute can finish saying the damn colonies name he's being pulled out of the way with an exclamation of, "There's a sniper!"

  
The three bullets that were unloaded from his clip misses his target and before Grif can question why his DMR is firing three shots instead of just one, the Brutes are returning fire in his general direction.

  
He has to duck down to avoid the bullets. He can hear them moving down below as he gets up to fire again. He's become hyper-aware of the fact that the DMR doesn't feel right in his hands and that it's firing more shots than it should be able to, but he still tries to aim at the Brutes despite this.

  
His shots are becoming more erratic and it's not doing much in terms of getting them to stop their advance towards his position or actually killing them. He's aware that he should be retreating at this point, but something makes him stay there- kneeling behind a broken wall trying to kill those fucking bastards.

  
He's got one of them lined up in his sights and he goes to pull the trigger when he hears the telltale click of the safety being flipped off. He freezes and moves his hands away from the gun, lifting both of his arms up with the palms out in a mock ‘surrender' pose.

  
"I'm going to ask you politely to move away from the Battle Rifle only once, Grif." He glances slightly behind him before training his eyes right in front of himself at the sight of an Elite training a Plasma Rifle at his head. He doesn't even think to wonder how it knows his name; all he knows is that he's probably going to die right then and there.

  
Unaware of his thoughts, the Elite continues on. "We're going to take you to Doctor Grey so she can figure out what's wrong with you; you're sick and you don't know what you're doing right now. So I'm going to ask you again, to move."

  
Grif starts to slowly lower his arms, making sure to choreograph his movements so it's obvious he's not going for his DMR and it seems to work as the Elite lowers its gun from his head.

  
Taking his chance he reaches with only one hand for a frag grenade, he finds it and pulls the pin with his thumb.

  
That seemed to be a mistake as the Elite obviously heard it and in one quick movement, his back is against the broken wall with his arm that has the frag grenade being grasped by the Elite.

  
"Grif, let go of the grenade right now." The Elite has a dangerous lilt to its voice, but that doesn't stop him from gripping tighter onto the grenade. As if it could read his thoughts, it realized that he wouldn't let it go without a fight, so it quickly changed tactics and tried wrestling the frag grenade out of his hands.

  
Grif tried to hold on to the frag grenade as well as he could, but the Elite quickly managed to wrest it out of his hands and chuck it away from the general area. In the distance, he can hear it explode and with it, he can hear a different wall collapse.

  
He's keeping eye contact with the Elite who hasn't released his arm, but at the same time hasn't killed him. He can hear the Brutes finally manage to reach his location and with sweat dripping down his face, he is very aware of how outnumbered he is.

  
Just as he's resigning himself to his fate and lowering his eyes, he can see a glimpse of a bright, blinding blue out of the corner of his eyes. His head snaps up as he sees the figure of what he's assuming is an AI dressed in SPARTAN armor.

  
He knows he's tilting his head in confusion with his jaw dropped in surprise.

  
Before he can question what a SPARTAN AI is doing with Covenant forces, he feels light headed and collapses into darkness.

* * *

_He's driving in a warthog into, what had seemed like back then, a random direction. He'd been hoping and praying back then to find another UNSC base or at least a city where he could establish some form of communication._

  
_The sun sets earlier here, and he drives for what he guesses is two days. His mouth is parched and his lips are dried and cracked, while his stomach twists in agony. He hasn't had anything to eat or drink since he left his own base in search of a new one._

  
_He had packed the warthog with as many supplies as he could before he left. But every time he tries to reach for something to eat it moves far out of his grasp and all the water in his canteen recedes before a drop can grace his lips._

  
_This part he knows is fabricated by the dream, just another thing to add onto his punishments for surviving._

  
_In the back of his mind, he can slightly hear Simmons talking about something about Greece, but it's filtered out with white noise. All he knows is that it has something to do with irony or whatever nonsensical rhetoric Simmons is into._

  
_All train of thoughts stops as he finally reaches his destination. The warthog slows down until it reaches a full stop on the outskirts of what used to be a city._

  
_Releasing his iron-tight grip on the steering wheel he climbs out of the jeep and his feet land hard on the ground. As he moves closer the rubble of building and homes crunched under his feet._

  
_It's deathly quiet in what had been a bumbling city that used to have people going from one place to another faster than what he was used to._

  
_He keeps moving forward and his breath is taken from him just as it was when he first saw this. He's feeling the same genuine emotions that he had back then, he can't quell the despair and devastation that threatens to overwhelm him._

  
_Tears are brought to his eyes once more and as he stops at a small fragment of what had used to been a gleaming building he collapses on it which a choked gasp._

  
_He starts sobbing quietly with his head in his hands and his elbows resting on his knees. His breath is taken from him once more as his shoulders rack from how hard he's crying._

  
_Back then he had been numb to the destruction he'd seen and he'd been near catatonic when his knees gave out on him._

  
_Now he's crying more than he probably has ever before in his life. Now his thoughts are plagued by the names running through his mind of all the people some of the other soldiers at the base had known lived in the city._

 

_There had been a little six-year-old named Lila LaPorta who lived in this city._

  
_There had been a nice elderly man named Mr. Brugger who used to send the soldiers at the base care packages because his grandson was stationed there._

  
_Names and affiliations raced through his mind as he lifts his head from his hands, tears still streaming down his face. With bleary eyes, he reaches down and pulls up a slab of rubble from the ground beneath him. He lifts it to his forehead and bumps his head against it slightly, closing his eyes._

  
_He's in this position, tears streaming down his face as he gasps for air when a wave of reassurance washes over him. Slowly he feels his tears coming to a stop and his breathing becoming more stable._

  
_When he opens his eyes and lowers the slab, he hears someone clearing their voice behind him._

  
_Grif is up in a flash and whirls around, only to see Church standing on the other side of the rock._

  
_"Well, that has got to be the most vulnerable I've ever seen you, Grif," Church greets._

  
_"How-"_

  
_"Am I here?" Church finishes for him. "Well, that's thanks to your neural implant, which I'm assuming the army gave you?"_

 

_Grif's only reaction to that is his hand subconsciously reaching to the long forgotten implants at the base of his neck._

  
_"And wow, gotta say, never thought I'd see you in other armor than the ones command provided us." Church crosses his arms and looks Grif up and down. "I'm going to be really honest with you here; it does not look right on you at all."_

  
_Grif glances down at what he had gotten used to in the beginnings of his military career. The armor wasn't nearly as protective as the armor he regularly wore, but that was a given since the army wasn't expected to fight in the types of dangers that the Reds and Blues faced on an almost daily basis. His helmet didn't cover his entire face and the visor was transparent, displaying his emotions for all to see, even if it was only to Church at the moment. He's suddenly reminded of the boots on his feet that always used to make the soldiers complain about how their feet felt pinched back at the outpost. Compared to Church, he felt as if he was stark naked and cut open on display._

  
_Church's comments about his uniform spark a little flame in Grif as he barked out a sharp, "Yeah, well I never thought I'd see you any bigger than an action figure again either."_

  
_Church doesn't need to glance down at himself like Grif had to; he knew what he looked like. "Yeah well, in your mind I can take whatever shape I want, so suck on that, bitch." Church gazes around almost nonchalantly. "So where are we? I expected a lot more food and probably cigarettes from your dreams, also definitely a lot more Simmons. Not so much all this shit."_

  
_Grif bites down the protective fire that threatens to expel out at Church's comment and instead is reminded about just exactly where they are._

  
_"You're smart, figure it out."_

  
_"You see if I could, I would have and I wouldn't have asked you instead." Church gestures around with his arms and for a split second Grif sees Sergeant Donahue instead. "Besides, this place is near unrecognizable after whatever the hell happened here- which by the way curious about that too, so it'd be really helpful if you could stop being difficult and just tell me where the hell we are."_

  
_Grif considers not answering at all and ignoring Church like the obtruding virus that he is, but he knows there has to be a reason why he's here so maybe answering his questions would get him to leave faster._

  
_"This…" Grif looks into the distance as if it would hold the answers. He hasn't said this colonies name in years; the only time he said it after its original collapse was when Simmons had woken him up from a nightmare about the damn place. Simmons had tried calming him down and in that moment Grif had spilled out where he had been previously stationed, but all he was met with was hesitant agreement; he knew Simmons thought he was crazy and didn't really believe him._

  
_Grif decides that he might as well say it to somebody else one more time, even if Church was just as, if not more, unlikely to believe him as Simmons had._

  
_"This used to be Tantalus."_

  
_He can feel the atmosphere shift and the sun starts to set in the background, giving the sky a radiant red and orange tint before it's consumed by a dark blue hue. He feels a shift in himself as well; it never sat right with him saying that name._

  
_"This used to be Tantalus?!" Church shrieks. "That's gotta be a joke, right? Tantalus? The same Tantalus that used to be an inner colony within-"_

  
_"In the Epsilon-Eradani System, yeah," Grif finishes._

  
_Church is quiet for a moment before he lets out a small chuckle. "What are the odds of that," he mutters bitterly before raising his voice. "Ok, ok. That explains where we are but, not so much about what the fuck happened here?"_

  
_"Just about the same thing that happened to Reach and New Mombasa city," Grif answers._

  
_Church gasps slightly and pivot turns to take in all the rubble once more._

  
_"This is what glassing looks like?" He whispers shocked._

  
_"I'm pretty sure, yeah," Grif mutters._

  
_They both stand in relative silence, with Grif being caught up in unwanted memories and Church most likely reaching out into the internet or whatever to see if he can verify if what Grif's saying is true._

  
_Church must've found what he'd been looking for because he suddenly stands stock still and glances at Grif. "There are no records saying that Tantalus was glassed at all, not even partially. Hell, they're no records saying anything about its condition at all."_

  
_Grif scoffs and crosses his own arms. "Well, you know what they say, ‘Glassed planets have bad records' and all that jazz."_

  
_Church contemplates that for a minute. "So what you're insinuating is that this is a UNSC cover up?"_

  
_"I'm not insinuating anything."_

  
_Church turns back to Grif fully. "But you obviously survived, why didn't you say anything about it to anyone?"_

  
_Grif shrugs. "There wasn't much I could do really; after the UNSC picked me up I was shipped off to Blood Gulch. Besides," Grif shifts. "Nobody would have believed me anyway."_

  
_Church is quiet for a moment before he speaks up. "You know, Simmons believed you. It took him some time to, sure, but he's the one who convinced everyone that there was something wrong with you that wasn't an AI inhabiting your mind, or whatever the hell Caboose was insisting about. Of course, he didn't exactly give his reasoning, but that was probably more for your benefit than anything else."_

  
_Now it's Grif's turn to be quiet as he takes that in. He had always assumed that Simmons didn't believe him and left it at that._

  
_"So let's see if I've got this right," Church breaks Grif out of his thoughts. "You were stationed on Tantalus, and I'm assuming that this had nothing to do with that ‘One Man Draft' bullshit you tried to peddle us."_

  
_"I actually enlisted in the army originally, I thought that the money that'd be sent back home to Kaikaina would be worth it even if I really didn't believe in dying for whatever cause the UNSC tried pushing on us." Grif looks away in what might have been some sort of shame; he wasn't used to actually telling the truth._

  
_"So the One Man Draft is just code-word for cover up then?" Church blows out air at that. "Ok, moving on. You enlisted and presumably passed Basic Training, which then led you to be stationed on whatever outpost on the colony of Tantalus. Then the Covenant attacked Reach, all of the UNSC ships were pulled out from Tantalus to help defend it, which then left you and presumably all the other soldiers still stationed on the planet sitting ducks."_

  
_"That sounds about right."_

  
_"And then the Covenant, what? Glassed the planet? That doesn't explain how you're still alive."_

  
_"They glassed the planet partially- the big cities; the populous; all gone." Grif walks over to where one beam still stands and places his hand on it. "The military bases were left untouched by the initial glassing, but were later overrun by Covenant forces."_

  
_"And you were the only one to survive those sieges. Somehow the UNSC got a hold of you, wanted to keep what you knew about the collapse of Tantalus quiet so they shipped you to the Simulation Soldier subset of Project Freelancer." Church's voice is void of any emotions or thoughts that he could have had, as he absorbs and processes the sudden influx of information._

  
_"The rest you know from there." Grif heads back towards the rock and sits down with a huff. The sun has finally set, but the glow of the moons of Tantalus gives an ethereal glow to the destruction of the city._

  
_He hears the rubble shifting before Church is standing by his side._

  
_"What," Grif mutters, shoulders sagging as he feels enervated, "could you have possibly gained from asking me all that?"_

  
_Church looks down at him before placing his hands on his hips. "You've got a lot of people worried about you."_

  
_"I don't know why they should be worried, I'm fine."_

  
_"You are not fine, don't be a petulant child." Church scoffs and shakes his head. "You are the polar opposite of fine. Especially with that little show just the other day."_

  
_"What- what show?" Grif has no idea what Church is referencing. "What are you talking about?"_

  
_"I'm talking about when you tried sniping everybody, which by the way Donut is very hurt that you almost managed to clip him with a bullet and don't even get me started on Simmons! The dude got all depressed when he figured out you tried to assassinate him first." Church pats Grif's shoulders. "Pretty sure you were hallucinating or whatever, thankfully nobody got hurt- except maybe Donut and strangely Cabooses feelings."_

  
_"Wait so that wasn't a dream?!" Grif exclaims before groaning. "Oh my god, if Carolina ever finds out that I looked at her and saw an Elite instead she is going to flip."_

  
_Church barks out a laugh at that. "Yeah, no I don't think she'd appreciate that. But I'm not gonna tell her, or at least I won't tell her now; this could be potential blackmail."_

  
_Grif chuckles a little at that, but his hearts not really in it. His gaze is continuously drawn to his surroundings, like a phantom that just wouldn't fade away._

* * *

Grif wakes up in the hospital room, but can't do much but lay down on the bed.

  
People file in and out of his room, but he can't really focus on them. They've all blurred; figures coming and going at random.

  
He knows they're saying things but it's all filtered noise. A quiet murmur of background noise that contributes to his own disorientation.

  
He's aware of a constant pain against the base of his neck, but he's become numb to it over time.

  
He's only slightly cognizant of Simmons gripping his hand; he's the only one who stayed the whole time that Grif's been awake.

  
It isn't long before Grif let's sleep grip its claws into his mind and pulls him under once more.

* * *

_Grif isn't actually sure that he woke up at all, as he finds himself in the same spot as last time. Everything looks the same, with the only difference being that it must be later in the night._

  
_Church is beside him just as he was last time._

  
_"You're not gonna tell everybody about Tantalus, right?" is Grif's only greeting to Church._

  
_Church doesn't seem bothered by his bluntness. "I'm gonna have to tell Carolina and maybe Wash, but it's not really my place to tell the rest." He shrugs before going to lean against the beam a few feet away. "Personally, I think you should, but I'm not gonna pressure you into doing anything that you don't feel comfortable doing."_

  
_Grif nods his head at that and goes back to staring in silence._

  
_After a period of just the two of them not talking, Grif decides to speak up. "Why are you still here?"_

  
_"Well as nice as it was for me to figure out the background of why you've been acting so weird lately, it doesn't really tell me what exactly made you react the way you did," Church answers._

  
_"What makes you think there was a reason," Grif mutters._

  
_"Well, there usually is. So when did this all start?" Church prompts. His only response is silence before Church groans slightly and nudges him with his elbow. "Come on dude, you're gonna have to tell me eventually otherwise I'm gonna keep coming back when you sleep and you're not gonna get any better."_

  
_Grif sighs and lifts a hand to rub at his temples. "Is it really important that you need to know why?"_

  
_"Absolutely; one hundred percent; it's a very much need to know the solution to your situation."_

  
_Moving his hand under his chin to support his head, Grif rolls his eyes. "The dreams started after that mission the Lieutenants came back from."_

  
_"The one that Palomo and Matthews got hurt on?" Church asks inquisitively. "That's what got you all worked up? Really?"_

  
_Grif bristles at his comment and scowls._

  
_At seeing this Church immediately raises his hands. "Didn't mean to antagonize you, just- it's just surprising is all. I thought you hated Matthews, and god knows that nobody like Palomo?"_

  
_"I don't hate Matthews, I just-" Grif groans loudly covering his face with his hands. "I hate how he idolizes me and I hate how hard he tries to get my approval, but I don't hate him." Grif rubs his face as he leans back. "I have no comment on Palomo."_

  
_"And what, them getting shot bothered you so much that it spiked some sort of episode?" Church asks. "Why?"_

  
_"I don't know why!" Grif shouts as he propels himself up from where he'd been sitting. He rips off his helmet and starts pacing. "It just- gah they're so- it just bothers me that they're so… young." He stops pacing and in one brief moment of losing his composure, he chucks his helmet as far as he could. It bangs against the ground and rolls forward some more before it slows to a complete stop a few feet away._

  
_With a huff he aims to go retreat it, but before he can Church reaches out and grips his shoulder._

  
_"Calm down, Grif. This is the most exuberant, expressive, and active I've probably ever seen you, and as much as that's surprising it's all for the wrong reasons."_

  
_Grif shakes off his hand but starts to control his breathing in order to calm himself down._

  
_"Ok, so I see that's a sore spot for you. Not really sure why, but I know better than to ask you." Church exhales and moves over to the rock and sits against it himself. "That's- that's about everything I needed to know. So whenever you wake up, we'll try to fix this."_

  
_"Pretty sure it's not that simple," Grif points out._

  
_"Nothing we ever do is," Church agrees. "But we somehow make it out alright in the end, and yeah this isn't the same as some of the other crap we've faced but I'm pretty sure everything will be alright like usual."_

  
_Tsking at that, Grif surveys the environment. He knows this ghost would never go away, that it'd come back again and again even if it leaves him alone for a little while. It's his burden of being alive, even if it wasn't a burden he deserved._

  
_"Hey, so, you know you're lucid dreaming right now, right?" Church pipes up._

  
_"Does that matter?"_

  
_"Well, I mean," Church shrugs. "Technically, you should be able to do whatever you want right now. Just thought to remind you of that." He stares out at the rubble around them._

  
_Grif can see what Church is trying to suggest. He hasn't tried to change anything before; it seemed too important to do that; too hollowed of a memory to change anything._

  
_The sun is rising in the distance with a brilliant gold and orange hue that is starting to dispel the night sky._

  
_Grif closes his eyes and tries to visualize what he remembers this city looking like. He's only seen it a few times; once in person, as he headed out to the outpost, and all the other times had been when his fellow soldiers that had shown him pictures of some town or building or landmark that they visited or had friends and family living there._

  
_He can hear the pieces of rubble scraping against each other and hears pieces clicking into place. He can hear some metal groaning under pressure as it strained to right itself to form the skeleton of the buildings._

  
_Church is a silent but reassuring presence at the back of his mind, and when he opens his eyes he's surprised that he managed to almost capture what the city had used to look like. There are some holes and cracks from where he'd been unsure of what looked like what or what went where, while the remaining rubble was still on the ground._

  
_It's not perfect, but it's more than what it had been mere minutes ago. Even though he's the one who revisualized the city, he still lets out a small breath at seeing it resurrected once more._

  
_The city is still too quiet and empty and before he can stop himself he's conjuring up people to fill up the void._

  
_People are racing by him becoming blurs with their faces shadowed. There are some who he can recognize; their UNSC regulation uniforms sticking out amongst the sea of people rushing by._

  
_It's finally too much for him as he collapses onto his knees burying his face in his hands, hot tears streaming down his face._

  
_He hears a slight sound of static from behind him before he hears light footsteps walking towards him. He feels a hand lightly pat his back and when he looks up he sees armor that he's never seen before._

  
_The red and blue figure sits next to him on their knees as well and with a child-like voice says, "It's ok," as they lean against him._

  
_That calms Grif down slightly and he just relishes in the commotion of the city quietly with that kid sitting next to him._

* * *

The minute Grif is actually awake and coherent, Simmons is hugging him tightly.

  
Grif only slightly hugs him back but leans into the embrace nonetheless.

* * *

_He's back on the balcony when he opens his eyes. Sighing he looks out to the horizon. He squints his eyes when he realizes that the sun is slipping down beyond the edges of the sky._

  
_Looking around, he realizes with surprise that he's actually able to move. Moving across the platform he's confused as he hears music coming from down below._

  
_He opens the hatch and descends the ladder only to be greeted by the smiling face of Private Ferri._

  
_"There you are!" he exclaims. Ferri grabs Grif's hand and drags him over to where they've set up a bonfire. Sergeant Donahue is there with Lieutenant Sharpentire giggling at her side._

  
_"There he is, Private Grif," Donahue chuckles slightly before correcting herself. "My apologies, it's Captain Grif now, right?"_

  
_Grif is aghast with surprise at what was clearly not a memory. He lets Ferri drag him to a spot next to his._

  
_Sharpentire smiles shyly at him. "I thin ya've certainly made yaself into a fine soldier there, Captain."_

  
_"Ooh, sounds like someone has a crush!" A soldier yells from behind her._

  
_"Oh quiet Semder, ya know I've got maself a nice boy back home!" she yells back._

  
_"Nicer than me?" Semder goads._

  
_"Anyone is nicer than you, Semder!" The soldier next to him jokes as he elbows him._

  
_"Hey, come on Courtney!" Semder says as he glares at his friend._

  
_As the antics between those three soldiers continues, Grif looks on in confusion before turning back to Donahue. She's looking at the display with that fond smile of hers._

  
_"I… I don't understand." Grif looks at her completely lost. "You're all…" he trails off._

  
_"Dead?" she finished for him. There's a sparkle in her eyes as she leans back. "Yes, well I suppose we are."_

  
_The small spark of hope inside of Grif is squashed down. He had thought that maybe he'd been dreaming this whole time and that he'd finally woken up to find that everything was fine._

  
_"Hey," she says. She's sitting next to him as Ferri runs off to join in on the fun as Sharpentire tries to pick up Semder to throw him far away. Seeing that reminds him of how he's so much older than all of them now; time having let him grow old while they died in their youth. His attention is drawn back to Donahue as she slightly grasps his arm. "It's ok you know."_

  
_"How can it be ok, if you're all dead?" Grif says._

  
_"It's a tragedy what happened to us, yes that's true. But I think you're forgetting the small good that came out of it." She pats him on his arm. "If it wasn't for you surviving the collapse of Tantalus you probably would have never met those fine friends of yours, as selfish as that sounds."_

  
_"I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing," Grif reveals truthfully._

  
_"Well, I think that's for you to decide." She responds. Chuckling she looks out into the distance, the small slivers of light disappearing beyond the horizon. "I think," she tentatively starts, "that you sometimes bottle up what you're feeling and that you think it'll make things better." Donahue glances at him briefly with a sad smile gracing her lips. "I think you know that that only makes it more overwhelming."_

  
_Grif shakes his head, letting a single tear drip down his cheek. "It hurts to think about it."_

  
_"I know," she concedes. "But it hurts even more if you don't; the bottle will overflow and then you're left to be consumed with more emotions than I'm sure you're used to." She pauses to lick her lips slightly. "I think you should listen to what I have to say first, and if you disagree after then that's fine."_

  
_Grif gives the faintest of nods and she continues on. "All of this," she gestures with her hands, "is only one moment in your life. You've experienced so much more beyond this outpost, and I like to think you'd have made me proud if I was still alive, and you've grown and lived and learned and that's wonderful. It's ok that what happened here bothers you; that's what makes you human." She clasps his hands bringing them close to her chest. "You're gonna come back here and that's ok; the pain you've experienced and will experience is going to hurt, but that's just one part of life."_

  
_"You're friends are concerned for you, because they really do care about you." She looks to the side and when Grif follows her gaze he jumps slightly at the silhouettes of his friends. "You're dealing with trauma and I know for a fact that you will be able to overcome it, and that they will try in their own ways to help you." She looks back at him. "You've never been as comfortable with us as you are with them. Leaving us behind doesn't mean forgetting us, so you should go back to them."_

  
_"That's not how this works, though," Grif clenches his eyes close. "I'm gonna come back here again, that's how it always works."_

  
_"Then come back here," she soothes. "There's nothing wrong with that, but don't stay here; move on. Besides, I think there are two others who you need to visit more than you need to for us."_

  
_She gets up slightly to brush her forehead against his own, before releasing his hands and moving away._

  
_Grif turns to watch her join the other soldiers. She's laughing as she pulls Semder up from where Sharpentire had chucked him down._

  
_The disconnection that he feels is very palpable to him as he turns back to where his friends are still standing. The choice is a clear one to make and he's already on his feet._

  
_He's walking over to them when he hears his name called out and he looks back._

  
_Donahue is surrounded by Ferri, Sharpentire, Semder, Courtney, and a dozen of other soldiers that he knew had been stationed at the base._

  
_"I meant it you know," she exclaims with one hand on her hip. "I'm sure you've made all of us proud, so kick some ass for us kid."_

  
_He smiles a little at that and moves forward._

* * *

"Hey, Simmons?"

  
Simmons jumps a little at Grif addressing him and he adjusts his glasses as he puts his book down.

  
"What is it, Grif?" he asks, his voice laced with concern.

  
"I'm feeling kinda hungry," he answers with a smile tugging at his lips.

  
Simmons laughs at that, relieved. "Of course you would be, fatass." He moves to get up, but Grif catches his sleeve.

  
"Actually," he starts. "I'd prefer it if we did something first before we get some food."

  
Simmons looks confused at first, but realization floods his face and he nods.

* * *

The room Palomo and Matthews are staying in is small. Palomo looks bored out of his mind as Matthews pesters him with queries.

  
As soon as Grif came through the door, Matthews shut up and stuttered out a shocked, "Captain Grif?!"

  
Palomo looks surprised as well, especially when Grif pulls over a chair and sets it right between the two hospital beds.

  
"Captain Grif what are you doing here? I heard you had been sent to the hospital, what happened? Are you-"

  
"I heard that you tried sniping the other Captains, which is not cool and yet at the same time still cool, why'd-"

  
"It doesn't matter why Palomo, you should be asking if Captain Grif's ok! Which, by the way, Captain Grif are you ok?"

  
The two boys go back and forth interrupting each other or trying to talk over the other. They kept at it but are immediately silenced when Grif chuckles slightly. Both of them stare at him wide eyed, not expecting that reaction from the usually apathetic captain.

 

Grif shakes his head, smiling brightly at both of them. "I'm just glad you're both ok," he says through teary eyes.

  
At that both Palomo and Matthews are shocked slightly; absolutely flabbergasted at that proclamation.

  
Grif reaches for Matthews' hand and squeezes it slightly. "You make me proud, kid."

  
Matthews' eyes look like they're gonna fall out of his head and his jaw has well past dropped to the floor, as Grif turns to Palomo. He gets up and pats him on the back, with a simple, "You too, kid."

  
It feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, and Grif walks out of the room a little lighter than when he entered. As he walks down the hall, he can here Matthews squeal with a little, "This is the greatest day of my life!"

* * *

_It's a quiet day at Blood Gulch and the sun is as high as it was hours earlier._

  
_Grif is standing with Simmons at his side; the both of them staring off into the distance._

  
_Simmons turns slightly to Grif and poses the question, "Do you ever wonder why we're here?"_

  
_Grif looks out around them. He can see the Blues squabbling with Washington and Carolina as they try to convince them to let them use some sticks of dynamite as fireworks; Sarge is to the right of them explaining that it's an entirely plausible plan and that it'd work with the added bonus of killing the Blues (and Grif). Donut and Doc are trying to convince Lopez to join them as they start a game of charades, and he can already assume that Lopez is gonna get dragged in any way._

  
_Turning back to Simmons with a smile, he answers back a simple, "Don't know, don't care; I'm just glad it's here."_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I feel like I should explain a few things. First things first, the whole glassing, 'Glassed planets have bad records', and the UNSC coverup is my interpretation of the events that led Grif to be stationed at Blood Gulch. I found the tidbit of Grif being on a massacred colony in the RvB book very interesting and took my own spin on things. I know a lot of fans are supportive of there being an actual One Man Draft, but personally, I always found it to be a shady concept. Not only that but it contradicted to one of Grif's earliest lines about signing up for the war effort. So I decided to tie both into the colony. Now I choose the colony Tantalus for the very specific reason that it never stated what happened to it in the Halo canon, this gave me a bunch of leeways to incorporate it into RvB. Now for the actual glassing and all that I was inspired by the canon Tumblr blog HUNTtheTRUTH in which a reporter goes into much detail about the conspiracies.  
> I also choose to explore the relationship between Church and Grif because I always liked that scene where there were in prison together, and was sad to find that later in the series there weren't any more scenes like that.  
> Sergeant Donahue and the rest of the OC's at the end are all a part of Grif's subconscious, as a way to help him cope with what's presented to him. He knows these things already but he needs to someone to verbally tell him it for it to actually take root in his mind.  
> Grif was in hospital towards the end for a few reasons: he was malnourished from a lack of eating properly, they wanted to keep him in a stabilized environment as Epsilon tried to figure out what the hell was going on with him, and to small reason was they were very concerned that he would hurt himself or others if left unchecked.  
> Well, that's about all there is to it! Thank you so much for reading, here are some links to HUNTtheTRUTH and what standard UNSC army armor looks like:  
> http://huntthetruth.tumblr.com/tagged/S1  
> and  
> https://www.halopedia.org/File:Halo_Reach_-_UNSC_Army_Infantryman_(Standing).png


End file.
